Killers of a Certain Age (Killers of a Certain Age, #1)

by Deanna Raybourn

Vance can be persnickety.” “Only women are ever called persnickety,” Mary Alice said. “Men get to be ‘detail oriented.’

I held the rebar in one fist, the grip just firm enough to keep it steady. Most people grasp a weapon until their knuckles turn white, but that just tires out your hand.

“True leadership, Miss Webster, is not about trusting yourself. It is about trusting your team.”

I tossed and turned awhile before heading down to heat some milk. I don’t drink it—warm milk is disgusting. But you have to stir milk constantly to keep it from scorching and I do find that relaxing.

“Lonesome is habit,” she said with a shrug. “One that can be broken.”

(Most people don’t realize exactly how flammable nondairy creamer is. Consider this a PSA.)

the only way we’re fighting is if you start something, and then I’m going to defend this baby until I’ve got nothing left, and I’m a biter,”